


Meatball Psychiatry

by flootzavut



Series: Next Time [16]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Jewish Character, Canon tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s01e17 Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, Episode: s11e16 Goodbye Farewell and Amen, Epistolary, Friendship, Infanticide, Jewish Character, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, PTSD, Post-Canon, Prose and letters, Rage eats a chicken, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Tragedy, WIP, nexttimeverse, queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/pseuds/flootzavut
Summary: Another unexpected visitor turns up in Maine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onekisstotakewithme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/gifts), [TheGryffindorBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGryffindorBookworm/gifts), [shewho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewho/gifts), [justalittlegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/gifts).



> OKTTWM - for all the usual reasons, ily a lot ♥️  
> TGB - for your enormous enthusiasm about this verse which never fails to make me smile ⭐️
> 
> I'm not 100% sure this won't touch on some potentially triggery topics along the way, so I'm going with "chose not to warn" for the moment, and the rating and/or warnings may change or be pulled back if appropriate. I don't anticipate the rating rising, nor do I believe that any of the specific trigger warnings will be necessary; I'm erring on the side of caution in both places.

* * *

_**Meatball Psychiatry** _

* * *

 

Hawk's in the den rereading a letter from Beej, one he's read more times already than he'd care to admit, when he hears voices and looks up just in time for his father to open the door.

"He's probably in here," Daniel says, at which point Hawk realises the visitor is for him.

For half a second he thinks (hopes) that maybe BJ's come to kidnap him after all (though he's sure he'd recognise BJ's voice the moment he entered the house), but the person it is is no less surprising and very nearly as welcome.

"Sidney!" Hawk stares. He can't quite believe his eyes.

"In the flesh," Sidney says with that familiar smile, and holds out his hand.

Hawk takes it in both of his, and Sidney clasps his left hand around Hawk's, too, but it's not enough. Sidney was a lifeline in Korea - even when he was also making Hawkeye remember things he would rather have left buried - and he's been a lifeline since. A handshake just doesn't convey the depth of Hawk's gratitude; he tugs Sidney in for a hug.

Sidney hugs him back and chuckles in his ear. "It's good to see you, Hawkeye."

Hawk nods, momentarily too choked up to speak. The door shuts softly, and he realises Daniel has left them to talk.

"Fuck, Sid," he manages eventually. "Not that I'm complaining, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"Can't a fella drop in on his favourite patient?" Sidney asks, taking Hawk's shoulders and pulling back enough to look him in the face.

Hawk raises his eyebrows. "Favourite?"

"Well, you should meet my other patients before you get too excited about the compliment."

That loosens the knot in Hawk's chest, and he cackles as he leads Sidney to a chair opposite his own. "Damn, but it's good to see you." He's written and talked to Sidney so much over the last few months, but it still feels strange to see him here, in the US, one more piece of Korea that wasn't a fever dream or a hallucination.

Sidney sits back in his chair to study Hawkeye the way he used to in Korea. Hawk's sure Sidney sees every new line, every sign of sleep deprivation and depression, every worry and insecurity.

Hawk thinks about that last letter he sent and has to look away. It took a long while and all his courage, and (in the end) forcing himself to sit down and write, to get that admission down. He didn't expect to actually  _face_  Sidney so soon, and without the chance to talk to him first.

"You didn't have to come all the way up here," he says. "The phone still works."  _Why did you have to make this harder for me?_

Sidney laughs. "Well, I know you're remarkably blasé about what you'll discuss on a party line, but when it involves things the law takes a dim view of, I thought it would be better not to risk your medical licence.

It takes a few seconds for that to sink in, then Hawk gapes at Sidney. "I didn't think about that," he admits.

Sidney just gives him a 'Well of course you didn't, that's why I had to do it for you' look.

"Shit." Hawk lets his head drop into his hands and laughs. "God, I didn't even... what a complete idiot."

Sidney's chair shifts as he leans forward, and Hawk doesn't have to look to see the expression on Sidney's face. He's seen it so many times; sometimes directed at a patient and, more and more as time went on, directed at him. Gentle, curious, open. An expression he can tell anything to, if he's brave enough.

Right now, he's not. He plasters on a grin before he meets Sidney's eyes again. "Your timing is excellent. Dad'll fix us some brunch. The famous Pierce French toast. You hungry? How long are you staying?"

Sidney gives him another familiar look - fond, patient, and exasperated. "As long as you need me to."

Hawk can't take that much undeserved affection right now. "Okay," he says, "so let's go eat. It'll be a novelty sitting down with you for a meal that doesn't look like it was eaten already." He stands up, gestures for Sidney to join him, as if he's fine, as if Sidney being here doesn't have him floundering with both gratitude and fear.

He's relieved when Sidney allows him the pretence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shoutouts to onekisstotakewithme and shewho for helping with this chapter ♥️

> Dear Sigmund,
> 
> I'm here in Maine visiting a patient who's also a friend - or more accurately, a friend who's also a patient. Even that doesn't adequately explain it, but I guess it'll have to do.
> 
> You no doubt remember me writing you about a man named Hawkeye; a remarkable man, who was very good at combating the horror with humour and wit. Well, he survived more than most, Sigmund, but by the end of the war, he'd seen too much. He's a troubled soul. I rather suspect he was troubled even before he ended up in a MASH unit. Korea had a way of unearthing demons no matter how deeply they were buried, and it gifted Hawkeye a few extra demons for good measure.
> 
> I'll be honest with you, Sigmund, there were times I came close to losing him. I'm not convinced even now that we won't, but I'll not give up without a fight. Hawkeye is a special young man. Special to many of us. Coming up here was for his sake, but it was for the sake of everybody who loves him, too. I include myself in that number.
> 
> Losing Hawkeye would hurt many people, and would destroy at least one. I must admit, it's partially due to him that I'm finally here.

* * *

Peg's so engrossed with her daughter, it doesn't occur to her to wonder where her husband's got to until she's put Erin down for her nap.

The house is quiet, but some instinct pulls her towards BJ's study, and sure enough, he's sitting at his desk. He has writing paper and envelopes spread out over it, and he's chewing on the end of his pen, looking frustrated.

"Writing Hawkeye?"

He glances up, gives her a tight little smile. "Sidney, actually," he says. Now she can see his face properly, it's not really frustration. He's sad and... and  _angry_. Almost like he's grieving. He sighs. "About Hawk, though."

Peg crosses the room and strokes her fingers through his hair. BJ leans into it, closing his eyes. She kisses his forehead. "Anything I can help with?"

BJ sighs and lets his head fall against her breast. "I don't know," he admits. "There's so much stuff I'm trying to sort through so I can explain to Sidney. So much stuff I don't want to think about, but I have to. I don't know how else I'm going to get Hawk the help he needs, and-" He stops for a second, then asks, "Is it selfish of me that I'm trying to help Hawk because I miss him and I want him here?"

Peg perches in his lap so she can talk to him properly. BJ wraps an around her waist and pulls her closer.

"Darling, you love him and want the best for him," she says. "Would you be trying to help even if he said he'd never visit, that he had no interest in leaving Maine or in visiting California? If he never wanted to see you again?"

"Of course," he responds without hesitation.

"Then it's not selfish." She kisses the tip of his nose. There's so much she doesn't understand, and it's scary and frustrating, but she has no doubt BJ wants only good things for the people he loves. "What- what are you writing Sidney about?"

She's afraid to ask; there are things BJ's never talked about, not because he didn't need to, but because he didn't want to burden her. But if Hawkeye is coming here - and it seems more and more of a possibility - then there are things she needs to understand.

BJ closes his eyes again; tears pool in his eyelashes, and one of them escapes down his cheek. "I need to ask him how to help Hawk with Erin."

"Erin? I thought Hawkeye loved children?"

"He does!" BJ's response is a little too fast, a little too defensive, and Peg's fear grows as he continues. "He... he did." BJ shakes his head. There's tension around his mouth, like he's trying to keep hold of himself.

"BJ? Talk to me." Another silence. "You're scaring me, darling." She didn't mean for that to slip out, but it's true. The only other subject she's seen get a reaction anything like this from BJ is his Bronze Star.

He takes a deep, shaky breath. "If I tell you - I can't  _un_ tell you, Peg. And there are things I'd rather you didn't have to know."

Peg wipes at his tears, kisses him softly. "I love you, BJ."

"I know," he whispers. "I love you too."

"Would you rather let Hawkeye tell me when he comes?"

BJ laughs, though it's short and humourless. "Actually, he - he asked me to tell you, so he wouldn't have to. Well... no, he didn't exactly ask. He never talks or writes about it. But I know him. I can read between the lines. I think he wants you to know before he comes in case you decide you don't want him to visit after all."

"Why would he even think that? That's ridiculous, BJ, of course I want him to visit!"

He peers up at her. "I know. I know that. I know that you won't hold it against him. But he doesn't. And you don't know - you weren't there. I'm glad you weren't, Peg, but-" He gestures helplessly. "I still can't believe it happened. I don't wanna believe it. And I don't know if Hawk will ever be able to get past it."

Peg's chest is tight. She's heard a lot about Korea, and so much of it has made her sad or hurt her or just made her want to hold BJ close and shelter him from it all, but she's never heard this note in his voice, never seen him look so pained or desperate before. It's terrifying. "BJ..."

"God, Peggy. I can't... I don't want you to have to know, but I need-  _Hawk_  needs you to understand. Oh, God."

"Beej."

The nickname wrests a wan smile from him. Peg doesn't think it's ever going to be completely natural to her to call him that, but BJ finds it... comforting. An acknowledgment there's someone missing, an affirmation of how important Hawkeye is, not just to BJ but to Peggy, too.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Peg," BJ breathes. "You're amazing. I don't deserve you."

It twists like a knife in Peg's stomach. Life before Korea seems like decades ago, but still, she doesn't remember BJ ever saying things like that.

These days, he tells her so often that he's not worthy of her, he's not good enough for her, he doesn't deserve her. It's as if what happened over there damaged his sense of himself as a good person, and the incident he's circling now must be part of the reason. She has a feeling this story's going to be at least as terrible as the one that came with his medal.

"BJ, darling. I love you."

BJ takes a deep, shaky breath, and he goes to speak a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

"I will always love you," she whispers. "Always."

He screws his eyes shut, and another couple of tears trickle down his cheeks.

"It started out as a good day," he says finally. "The fighting was way off over at Kumsong, so we went to the beach at Inchon. It was the first day in forever I felt like a real human being, not a soldier-suit, not like I was drowning in wounded and shrapnel and never being enough. It almost reminded me of home. Sun and sand, laughter. It was a day off from the war. Even R&R in Tokyo never felt quite like that. God, it was  _such_  a good day. Then we set off back to the 4077th, back into the war, and it all went to hell."

Peg strokes his hair, and he presses his face against her neck like a wounded animal seeking comfort. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled but determined.

"We picked up some wounded kids, some refugees. All casualties of the war, you know? Lost limbs, lost homes, lost families. Then we had to pull off of the road 'cause there was an enemy patrol. Whole bunch of us waiting, hoping they wouldn't know we were there. Cowering in the darkness and praying we could stay hidden. We were scared and jumpy. Hawk couldn't settle. And there was a baby..." He trails off.

Peg holds her breath. She doesn't know what's coming, but she's starting to feel the shape of it, and it's ugly. She wants to brace herself, but suspects there's no way to be prepared.

"Hawk kept telling the baby's mom to keep it down, to stop the kid crying. But babies don't come with a volume control, do they? So we just sat there. Every one of us terrified and hoping to God we wouldn't be found, and this baby is crying and crying. Nothing we could do, and all of us at risk because of one fractious baby who wouldn't be comforted."

If Hawk didn't need for her to know, if BJ didn't need to get this off of his chest, Peg would stop him. Whatever's coming, it's bad. It's very bad.

"It wasn't- wasn't his fault, you know? But Hawk was the one who took charge, the one trying to keep us all safe. And he kept telling this woman, keep your baby quiet. Except she couldn't. She couldn't, Peg. So finally she- she smothered her own baby," he says, voice breaking.

Peg lets out a cry of horror and denial. BJ holds her so tight it's uncomfortable, and his body shakes.

"Oh, BJ." Her heart breaks for him, for all of them, and especially for Hawkeye. "That poor man."

She can't begin to imagine dealing with this, having it on her conscience. There's a sharp pain in her chest from thinking about it. And she's a mom, a housewife, not a doctor, not someone whose whole life is dedicated to the preservation of life and health in those entrusted to his care. She wraps her arms more firmly around BJ, rubs her hands up and down his back, and doesn't try to stop her own tears.

It hurts. It hurts to imagine, it hurts to think that he's been carrying this weight alone for all these months, it hurts to think of a mother faced with such a terrible choice. And it hurts to think of Hawkeye taking on responsibility for it.

She clings to BJ, and he clings to her, and she has no way to ease this pain.

Eventually BJ's breathing slows and steadies, his quiet sobbing eases, and his grip on her loosens to something less desperate. Peg keeps carding her hands through his hair, finding as much comfort as she's giving. She's not exactly grateful she knows. If she could've gone her whole life without hearing something like that, ever... she wishes she didn't have to find out.

But she's glad BJ has someone to share the burden now. She's glad she can be that bit more prepared for Hawk to visit, glad she'll understand better when he inevitably gets skittish around Erin. She takes a deep breath, cups BJ's head, and kisses his hair.

"Hawk still thinks it was his fault," he says. "As far as he's concerned, it's as if he killed that child with his own hands. He... he kinda lost it, after. Couldn't deal with putting boys off the line under anaesthesia. Couldn't deal when there was a party with a bunch of local kids. He couldn't handle it. Sidney helped, don't get me wrong. He helped a lot. But he's not a magician. He couldn't fix it. Hawk survived so much and got through so much and got us all through so much, but that... it broke him. It tore him to pieces, Peg."

Peg can hear it in his voice that it broke BJ, too. Not just what happened, but seeing his best friend, his Hawkeye, fall apart.

"And I was no goddamn help to him. I just up and left him there." BJ meets her eye, and his expression makes her want to cry again, it's so raw and pained. "I tried to say goodbye, when I went to the hospital. I tried. Tried to explain I needed to be here for Erin's birthday, you know? When I tried to talk about her, he lashed out. It wasn't like he meant it. He repressed the memory, for a real long time, but somewhere in his mind, he was remembering that baby, and he couldn't deal with the reminder. So I didn't get to say goodbye. I felt terrible leaving him there, but I didn't know what else to do."

Peg kisses his forehead. "I'm sure he understands, even if he didn't at the time."

"He says he's forgiven me, but I'm not sure I believe him. I can't forgive myself for it, so why the hell would he? I don't think he ever would've spoken to me again if they hadn't sent me right back there and given me a chance to put it right."

"Oh, BJ." What can she say? If they can get Hawkeye here, if she can make the two of them actually talk, then maybe they'll be able to get all of these uncertainties and misunderstandings out in the open, and learn to forgive themselves as well as each other. Maybe Hawkeye will realise how much BJ loves him. Maybe BJ will be able to accept that Hawkeye has long since forgiven him. But right now, there's no way she can think of to sufficiently reassure him. "He loves you," she says softly. "It's not so hard to forgive someone you love."

BJ seems dubious, but he doesn't deny it aloud. "Time will tell, I guess." He rests his head on her shoulder, and they lean into each other, and he's so warm and solid, such a comfort, so very beloved.

It still surprises her sometimes, how much she loves him, how deeply she feels his joys and sorrows. It's both hard and beautiful. She wishes she could heal all the wounds Korea left in his mind and on his heart, and she hopes so much that Hawkeye's visit will help all of them, but in the meantime she'll love BJ fiercely, passionately, tenderly, and pray she can somehow be enough.

"So," she says eventually.

BJ looks up at her.

"This letter to Sidney. Can I help?"

"Margaret Jane Hayden-Hunnicutt, you are a wonder." His eyes are welling up, and he shakes his head, but there's the ghost of a smile on his face. "I don't know if you can help me write it," he says, "but having you here? That definitely helps."

"Then I'll stay."

BJ sighs and presses their foreheads together. "Thank you. Peg, I'm so damn lucky I have you."

Peg brushes his tears away. "I love you."

His smile is stronger now. "I love you too."

Peg shifts on his lap so he can reach the desk, and rests her head on his shoulder. She has no idea how the three of them are going to get through this, but she's absolutely determined that they will.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawk can feel Sidney watching him. As soon as they get some more privacy, Sidney's gonna be doing his shrink bit, gonna be poking around in Hawk's head, and Hawk has a mixture of fear and relief churning in his belly. He needs this, but that doesn't mean he isn't scared or that he  _wants_  it. Necessity won't stop it being hard or painful.

Daniel leaves them be to go do the washing up, and it's deeply tempting to run away. Hawk manages to resist, by a whisker, but he's not quite ready to get into it. If he can convince Sidney to be patient with him...

"So," he says, trying to sound casual (and failing), "you trekked all the way up to our picturesque corner of nowhere just to see little old me? I'm flattered." He gives Sidney a coy look. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you had an ulterior motive."

Sidney raises his eyebrows in a mild reprimand, but his grin is wide and genuine. "It does a body good to get out of the city now and then." He winks. "It's always such a relief to go back."

Hawk rolls his eyes. "You city guys, don't you know fresh air when you breathe it?"

"My lungs are used to car fumes, this country air puts them all out of sorts."

"It's a long way to come to torture yourself with clean living, Sid."

"Well, fresh air, seeing my favourite patient, and taking a little vacation."

"A vacation?"

Sidney smiles again, eyes crinkling. "Are you saying I don't deserve one?"

"I'm saying rural Maine and a certifiable lunatic don't scream vacation, if you ask me."

"Well, for starters, I haven't issued you your certificate-"

"I said certifiable, not certified. I never took the exam."

"-and for seconds, it's more of a vacation than I got in Korea. Or don't you remember me visiting the 4077th to get away from it all?"

"And  _I'm_  the lunatic."

Sidney chuckles. "Hey, you said that, not me."

That gets a reluctant smile out of Hawk. Sidney always was one of the few outsiders able to keep up with their particular brand of crazy. "Aren't psychiatrists supposed to be sane?"

"Are you kidding? Even if I started off that way, I wouldn't have survived Korea if I'd tried to keep all my marbles."

"Can I use that excuse too?"

Sidney cocks his head, and there's that expression again - all patience and no judgement. "I think you have more excuse than most, Hawkeye."

"Somehow that's not too comforting, Sid. And anyway, keeping marbles is a lot easier than staying sane."

"Have you being winning them in your sleep again?"

Hawk pulls a face. "Not as far as I know. I didn't count on bringing all the nightmares home with me, though," he admits.

"None of us did."

That makes Hawk look up sharply. "You-?"

Sidney nods. "War isn't an experience anyone gets over easily, Hawkeye. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself that it's taking you longer than you'd like. It's only been a few months. That's no time at all after years on the front lines." He leans forward and pats Hawk's knee. "No one is expecting you to be superhuman. Except maybe you."

Sidney's voice is soft and reassuring. Hawk both wants to run away from the sympathy he doesn't deserve and to climb into Sidney's lap for comfort, for contact, really for anything he could get away with. It takes all his willpower not to bolt or do something wildly inappropriate.

"You got a hoop here?" Sidney asks, jolting Hawk out of his spiral.

Hawk blinks. "Uh, no. Dad would let me put one up, but I never played before Korea, and since... well. Not exactly at the top of my priorities list."

"Too bad. Didn't stop us before, though. C'mon," Sidney says, as he gets up.

"You're suggesting we play basketball? Even though we have neither a ball nor a basket?"

Sidney grins. "Seemed to help the last time you wrestled with nightmares."

"You really are a lunatic."

"Takes one to know one."

"Okay," Hawk says with a smile, "but don't blame me if you get creamed, old man. Home court advantage."

"Nice try at trash talk, but I've seen you play."

Sidney holds out a hand to haul Hawk to his feet, and then Hawk pulls him into another hug because there are simply no words to express his overwhelming gratitude.

He leaves an arm slung around Sidney's shoulders as they head out to the yard, gives in to the urge to press a kiss into his curls. Sidney just laughs, and it makes Hawk chuckle too.

Sometimes the words won't come, but sometimes, they don't need to.


	4. Chapter 4

They're sitting out in the frigid sunroom, feet kicked up on the table, rotgut in hand, and it's reminiscent of too many evenings in the Swamp, but it's also oddly comforting. Hawk has no need to make Korea seem any closer or more immediate, but seeing Sidney here in the real world, another person who isn't just part of a nightmare (someone else who thinks he's worth fighting for, which is wonderful and terrifying in equal measure), is still helping Hawk feel a little less like he's losing his mind.

"This is a lot better than that lighter fluid you boys served in Uijeongbu," Sidney says. "It's almost passable."

Hawk laughs. "I save the bad stuff for visitors. The sweet taste of home. You're welcome."

They refill and clink glasses. "Did you serve this to BJ?"

"Are you kidding? We drank a whole bottle."

"You two must have cast iron stomachs."

"That and a death wish." Hawk meant it as a joke, but the sharp look Sidney gives him makes him think it come out a bit too serious. Or maybe too honest. He and BJ used to say their hobby was suicide by means of the still, but he's pretty sure Beej didn't consider it a valid life choice. (Some days it feels like the best choice Hawk has.) Now Hawk mostly drinks alone, and every so often thinks his liver giving out would be a mercy for all concerned.

Sidney's still watching him. There should be laws against anyone being so patient and willing to listen; it's almost impossible not to respond by saying more than intended.

"Sometimes I think we'd all be better off if you just put me in a rubber room somewhere," Hawk admits.  _Or else if you let me take myself out of the picture_ , he doesn't add, though he's sure Sidney knows he's thinking it. "It would be better for everyone." He's definitely being too honest now, but he can't help it. Sidney's always had the knack of making him spill his secrets, whether he means to or not, and he's helpless in the face of it.

"You won't find anyone amongst your nearest and dearest who would agree with that sentiment. I'm sure your father would be the first to say you're worth the effort, but he'd be at the head of a very long line."

Hawk pulls a face. Even if that's true, it doesn't prove that Sid or Daniel or BJ are right. If he could make them see him as a liability, if he could just convince them to let him go... or if he could convince himself to trust what they're telling him, although that seems like a pipe dream.

The notion of killing himself isn't attractive so much as it seems like a preferable alternative to continuing this half-life where he has nothing to hold on to, nothing to show for thirty some odd years on the planet. A room he slept in when he was a kid, an elderly father who should be leaning on him instead of the other way round, a reckless devotion to a married man thousands of miles away, are not enough to make it worthwhile. It's all he can manage to take one day at a time, to hope eventually something will start to make sense, and it's hard to live like this.

He's startled when Sidney puts a hand on his forearm, gently squeezes. He glances over.

"Hey," Sidney says, "look at me." There's concern all over him. "Hawkeye?"

Hawk plasters on a fake smile. "Sorry. I get lost in my head sometimes."

Sidney searches his face, and Hawk lets the rictus grin fall. There's no point dissembling. Sidney is not a fool.

After a long moment, Sidney puts his hand on Hawk's cheek, gentle and grounding. "I hope I did the right thing coming up here."

Hawk isn't used to Sidney second guessing himself. "You did, Sid, honest. I mean - God, I have no idea if you can help me, but it means a lot that you're trying. I can't even tell you."

Sidney studies him some more, then nods. "I'm glad."

"Besides Beej, I can't imagine anyone I'd rather see."

That gets him a wide smile. "Well, playing second fiddle to BJ is something I'll take as a very great compliment."

Hawk grins back. "It was intended as such."

"Heard from him lately?"

Hawk can  _feel_  his grin turning goofy, but he can't help it. "He called a few days after I wrote you. Oh, and Peggy wrote  _me_  again." He shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure she's some kind of celestial being, you know."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I never thought he'd be married to someone...  _ordinary_ , of course."

"Of course," Sidney agrees with another smile, fondly amused at Hawk's vehemence.

"Still, she just... she writes to me like- God, like she really cares, and I just..."

"Maybe it's because she does."

"But she's never even met me!"

"You're important to her because you're important to BJ. You said yourself that Peggy's important to you because she's his wife. It works the other way around as well."

Hawk pulls a face. "It isn't the same thing, though. It's not like I'm BJ's-" He was going to say husband, but it aches even to think that. It's stupid, he's not the marrying type (or so he's been telling himself since Carlye); besides, he couldn't marry Beej even if Peg hadn't got there first. But the idea of it, of being an official part of BJ's life...

(And there's a truth there that's equally painful. Even if he's not BJ's  _something_ , he's definitely BJ's.)

"You're important to him," Sidney says again. "That's why he flew across an entire continent to see you."

Hawkeye suddenly can't find his words, throat choking up with emotion.

Sidney grasps his shoulder, rubs the point where it meets Hawk's neck and carries so much tension it hurts. "You're going to be all right, Hawkeye," he says, and he puts so much certainty into it, Hawk almost believes him.

He still can't make himself speak, but he tilts his head to rest his cheek against Sidney's hand, like a cat.

Sidney laughs softly but doesn't protest. "Hawkeye-" he says, then stops dead. When he starts again, Hawk gets the impression Sidney rethought what he planned to say, but it's late, and Hawk's too tired to grill him about it. "Hawkeye," he says again, "you're exhausted. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"No more invisible basketball?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

Hawk can't help laughing at that. He isn't convinced he'll be able to fall asleep, but he is worn out, and it's kind of nice how Sidney's trying to mother him.

(Not that he'd admit it in so many words.)

Sidney gets up with him, and they hug, and Hawk won't ever be able to repay Sidney for all his kindness, but will keep trying to let him know how much it means. "Thank you," he whispers, voice cracking, unable to get anything more out.

"You're welcome, Hawkeye," Sidney says, almost as softly. "You're very, very welcome."

When they draw apart, Sidney searches Hawk's face once more, then, as if he's pleased with whatever he found, cups Hawk's cheeks and smiles.

The tenderness in those hands stays with Hawk even as he goes to wish Daniel a good night and heads up to his bed. Maybe, just maybe, he'll get some sleep tonight after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Daniel waits for Ben to go to bed, then joins Sidney in the sunroom where he's still sitting, nursing a glass of the terrible gin the Korea vets all seem to - well, not to enjoy, exactly, but they drink it, for reasons Daniel doesn't understand and isn't sure he wants to.

Sidney smiles up at him, though he looks exhausted. Daniel is so grateful for yet another person going out of their way to take care of his son, but he can't seem to put words around it.

"I see Ben brought out the lighter fluid for you," he says instead, and is pleased when Sidney chuckles.

"If you tasted the swill we drank in Korea, you'd find out just how good this stuff is."

Daniel sits down next to him. Ben's empty glass is sitting on the table, but while Daniel wouldn't mind some liquid courage for this conversation, he's not desperate enough for anything so foul just yet.

"I have some rather fine scotch in my study," he offers, but Sidney shakes his head.

"There's something about the cold night air and terrible gin that's almost homely to me now." He laughs again. "Or maybe your son isn't the only one who's developed a taste for self-flagellation."

Daniel leans back in his chair. "He isn't drinking quite so much as when he first got back."

"I'm glad to hear it. Drinking too much is understandable, maybe even to be expected, but if he can stop self-medicating with alcohol, I'll feel an awful lot better about his wellbeing."

Daniel had no idea of Sidney's age from Ben's stories, and has even less now he's met the man. Sidney's so wise, so patient. He talks about Ben almost like a little brother, even a son, but his ready smile and warm laugh, the way he looks at Ben, make him seem much younger.

"I'm very grateful for all the help you've given him. This is far beyond my expertise, Doctor Freedman."

"He's a friend," Sidney says, as if it's that simple to talk, to write, to travel hundreds of miles. "I'm glad to be able to help. And please, call me Sidney."

Daniel nods. It's not the first time he's asked; Daniel isn't used to being so informal with someone he's known less than a day. Or maybe it's the obvious closeness this man shares with his son, the way Sidney seems to understand Ben's pain, which discomfits Daniel. It's as if he doesn't know Ben as well as he thought. There are stories and secrets Ben hasn't told yet, of course (Daniel's suspected that for quite some time), but Sidney's willingness to come all this way makes it seem as if some of those secrets are bigger and more dangerous than Daniel ever imagined. He's rather nervous about the whole thing.

He's also nervous because he's not sure whether Sidney realises how Ben feels about BJ. If he does, then maybe he can be even more of an ally; if he doesn't, then Daniel has no intention of betraying Ben's confidence. It seems too important not to find out one way or another.

"Did Ben tell you that BJ came here?"

Sidney cocks his head. "He did."

"It meant the world to him."

"Yes, I-" Sidney chuckles. "I did get that impression.

Daniel is encouraged. "He and Peggy have invited Ben to visit, you know."

"I imagine that would do him a lot of good."

"He misses BJ. Rather a lot."

Sidney nods. "They have a... special connection, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes." Daniel clears his throat. This is promising. "BJ seems like a very decent young man."

"He is."

Some of Daniel's worry falls away. He was reasonably sure of his read on BJ Hunnicutt, but it's always good to be reassured.

Sidney pours himself some more gin but doesn't drink it, just swirls it around in his glass. What memories do the sight and smell evoke for him? "I'm very fond of them both," he adds. "They're quite the pair."

"They are. Ben was fortunate in almost all the people he served with, but their friendship is..." Daniel stops. He doesn't know how to explain, and he can't just say 'Ben is in love with him' when he has no idea how Sidney would react. "I don't know what Ben would have done without BJ," he says instead, choosing his words as carefully as he can. "It's a great shame he lives so far away. It's very hard to be thousands of miles from someone... someone you care deeply about."

Sidney glances up. His eyes are a warm and friendly brown, but there's a fierce, sharp intelligence in them, too. "Yes." He studies Daniel for a moment, as if he's also trying to determine what he can and can't say, how much Daniel knows.

It's somewhat comforting to see Sidney react so carefully and warily. If he knows - and Daniel is starting to believe maybe he does - he's obviously determined not to do or say anything that could endanger Ben's wellbeing. Between the two of them, surely they can lay the necessary cards on the table without having to admit that's what they're doing?

"They came to mean a great deal to one another in Korea," Sidney says, watching for Daniel's reaction as he speaks. "We all did, of course. War has a way of forging very close friendships. But Hawkeye and BJ were closer than anyone else I knew there."

Daniel nods. He's almost confident Sidney knows exactly what he's saying, that they're on the same page, but he needs more, just a little more. "Very close," he agrees. "Ben wrote about him often; I felt I knew him even before we met. He's very dear to Ben."

"It's hard," Sidney says softly, "hard when such important relationships aren't... accepted."

 _There it is_. The relief of it whooshes out of Daniel in one long breath. He's as sure as he can be now, and that gives him the courage he needs to continue. He isn't stupid, isn't careless, but Ben is more important than his own ancient secrets, and Sidney is a doctor first. Daniel wants, _needs_ Sidney to know that Daniel isn't simply aware of Ben's feelings, but also understands them.

"Even before he came back home, it was obvious there was something special about their friendship," he says.

That gets him a little smile, amused and indulgent, as if Sidney is just barely resisting the temptation to add his two cents.

"I'm glad they had one another for comfort."

"I turned to the pair of them for comfort myself more than once," Sidney says, his smile widening. "The 4077th was often something of a refuge from the horror of it all, as strange as that may sound, and it was in no small part due to BJ and Hawkeye."

It's easy to imagine Ben and BJ as a double act to rival the USO. "I dare say one needs as much laughter as possible in such a situation."

Another nod. "Laughter, warmth. Good conversation and honest friendship."

It's Daniel's turn to nod. "I had a close friend in college. Someone I came to rely on. I still miss him very much, all these years later."

Sidney studies him for a moment. His eyes are wide with surprise, but he simply nods a third time and sits back in his chair. "I see."

Daniel takes a deep breath and looks away. "He was... my BJ." His voice shakes despite his best efforts. Why is saying it out loud so much more difficult? He's thought it, written it, he's talked about Isaac (albeit not by name), but likening Isaac to BJ, acknowledging his own pain alongside his son's, makes tears well up.

If Sidney hadn't already figured it out, he surely has now. When Daniel looks at him again, his expression is warm and sad, though Daniel can't meet his gaze for very long. Ben always spoke highly of Sidney Freedman, insisted Sidney was the only person qualified to help him, regardless of distance. Daniel is starting to see why.

"I'm so sorry," Sidney murmurs, voice full of sympathy. "You and Hawkeye have had to face far more than your fair share of pain over the years."

Daniel takes a deep breath. It's a lot to think about, even more to talk about. He wonders if Sidney empathises because he's been in a similar situation, or whether it's more of his innate compassion.

The depth of devotion BJ and now Sidney have shown to Ben is humbling. Daniel doesn't really understand. He's unequal to the complexity of the friendship these men share, hopelessly unqualified to untangle it, but deeply moved all the same. He has no desire to try and quantify it or explain it. It would be a desecration.

"We manage," he says eventually. "We have each other. I am grateful, so grateful, for the friends he made there. I- I don't know if he would ever have come back to me if he hadn't had BJ, and you, and- and everyone."

"There are many who would not have made it home without your son."

Daniel manages a smile. "At least he can hold on to that."

"You should be very proud of him."

"I am."

They sit in silence a little longer. Sidney slowly sips his gin, then when he's emptied his glass, says, "Is your fine Scotch still on offer?"

This smile comes naturally. "Of course." Daniel leads Sidney into the house and through to his study. He has a strong suspicion Sidney's giving him the excuse to have a drink rather than wanting Scotch himself, but Daniel is grateful for the opening.

"Just a small one," Sidney says, when Daniel goes to pour him a glass, which confirms Daniel's suspicions and makes him like Sidney Freedman even more.

It's warmer in here. Daniel suddenly feels the lateness of the hour in his heavy limbs and eyelids without the cold night air to keep him awake. They sit in comfortable chairs and sip at their Scotch, and Daniel thinks maybe he'll sleep more soundly tonight because Sidney is here.

"This is _very_ good Scotch," Sidney says. He holds it up to the light to admire the colour.

"A gift from a patient."

"Generous patient."

Daniel grins. "There are benefits to being the only doctor within thirty miles."

"Except for Hawkeye."

"Except for Ben." Daniel takes another nip and sighs. "He does do some doctoring. It seems a waste of all his skill to practise small town medicine, but I think it's better than practising none at all."

"It certainly is."

Another layer of anxiety drops from Daniel's shoulders. He's so helpless in the face of Ben's brokenness, he has no idea how to tackle it. Knowing he's doing something right means even more than he hoped it would.

"If we could just get him to San Francisco," he says. "I don't think being in Maine is doing him any good at all."

Sidney has a certain way of not speaking that almost compels one to keep talking. Daniel suspects it's part of what makes him an excellent therapist; he's looking at Daniel, open and warm and inviting, and it's irresistible to fill the silence he leaves.

"It's dark and cold," Daniel continues. "I think a little sunshine would do him no harm."

Sidney nods.

"And... and some warmth."

"I hear it's a balmy seventy degrees out there. Sounds positively tropical, doesn't it?"

"It does rather."

Sidney takes another sip of his Scotch and waits.

"I think... I think he needs to spend time with BJ," Daniel says at last.

A nod.

"I don't really understand. I do my best, but I don't. I can't. I wasn't there. But when BJ was here..."

Another moment of silence.

"I wish I knew how to convince Ben that he should go."

Sidney laughs softly."Have you considered just gathering him up and putting him on a flight west?"

"Actually, I have," Daniel admits ruefully. "I'd rather take him myself, but I keep wondering if Ben travelling alone would be worth the risk. I can't ask BJ to come and get him, he's already taken time away from his life to make sure Ben was all right, and I can't take too much time away from the practice at short notice. Still, Ben being here is a risk all of its own, and I-" Daniel shakes his head. Part of him wants to tell Sidney about all those pills he found, about how scared he is, but it's not his secret. "I think he needs BJ," he finishes eventually.

"I think you're right."

"I hope BJ can help him somehow. I hope I'm not being... presumptuous thinking he'll be willing."

Sidney leans forward and grasps Daniel's forearm. "I'm certain you're not." He waits for Daniel to look up at him. "He wrote me about Hawkeye."

It's Daniel's turn to be taken aback. "He did?"

"BJ wants to make things as easy as possible for him when he visits."

"Oh." Daniel blinks, once again moved and touched by how much Ben's friends care for him.

"I think BJ wants to see Hawkeye as much as Hawkeye needs to see BJ, but what concerns him most is to help Hawkeye however he can, whatever that might mean."

Daniel doesn't know how to respond. "Oh."

"Your son is a very special man," Sidney continues. "He helped a lot of people, and not all of us were his patients. He was - he is - beloved. I'll do everything in my power to help him, and almost everyone who passed through that unit would tell you the same. BJ maybe most of all."

"Thank you," Daniel manages in a whisper. He's not sure he can say anything else. "Thank you."

Sidney puts his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "I'm glad to do it. We all have our BJs, whoever or whatever they may be." He pauses. "Maybe sometimes we even get a second chance."

Daniel looks up and finds Sidney watching him closely.

"If someone is as important as BJ is to Hawkeye, as your BJ was to you-"

"Isaac," Daniel says, unable to resist.

Sidney chuckles. "A good Jewish name. Clearly, you have taste. When someone is so important - as important as your son is to so many of us - it's worth the effort."

Daniel nods. "I'm indebted to you for all your help. I don't know what Ben would have done without you."

Sidney waves it away. "No more than I'm indebted to you for the pleasure of his friendship and the chance to meet you," he says.

"Well, at least let me thank you."

That gets an impish grin. Sidney's eyes are so merry, his face so full of life, he surely can't be much older than Ben. "I should point out that you've said 'thank you' to me many times since I arrived, but I would never forbid you from repeating it."

" _A dank_ ," Daniel says, unable to resist, then laughs at the expression on Sidney's face.

After a moment of utter bemusement, Sidney laughs too.

" _G'dank. Redstu Yidish?_ "

"I'm afraid only a very few words."

"To be completely honest, I'm impressed you know even that much. Not to mention deeply intrigued to learn why," Sidney says, looking both confounded and delighted.

Daniel's rather delighted with himself, too. "Ben's mother was Jewish."

Sidney frowns. "He never said."

Abruptly, Daniel's delight is quenched. "She... she died when he was a youngster."

Sidney nods, as if he already knew that, but still seems confused, and Daniel doesn't know how to explain. How to admit he didn't know enough to pass the legacy on to Ben; how it all hurt too much after her death.

"She never really had the chance to- she was ill for most of his life." Daniel gestures helplessly. "There isn't much call for rabbis in rural Maine. And after Adelaide died, I couldn't... I just. I couldn't."

"I'm so sorry," Sidney murmurs.

"There are things he picked up, and things we do to... to honour her memory. But..."

"I understand."

It feels strangely like a benediction, or forgiveness, and it eases something in Daniel's heart he didn't know was still so raw. "Thank you."

They sit for a while in silence broken only by their sips of Scotch and the quiet tap of glass on wood when they set their drinks down.

It's peaceful. Something about Sidney's company is very restful, and again, Daniel's glad Sidney's here, not just for Ben's sake, but for his own. They both need this.

"You know," Sidney says eventually, "you should forget about flying Hawkeye to California. Just cover him with stamps and write BJ's address on his forehead, then the US postal service will have the responsibility of getting him there safely. Not snow nor rain nor gloom of night..."

Daniel laughs aloud at the image, a somewhat raucous cackle he'd forgotten he could make. "I'm not sure they had humans in mind when they adopted that motto."

"It might work, you never know."

When Daniel looks over at Sidney, Sidney's smiling as if he takes as much pleasure and satisfaction in making Daniel laugh as he does in helping Ben. There's nothing that could compensate Ben for what he lost during the war, but the friends he made are a remarkable group.

Sidney sets his glass down for the last time, then sits up, hands on his knees. "Thank you for the Scotch," he says, "and for your company."

"The pleasure was mine, I assure you."

"I wish it had been under better circumstances, but I'm very glad to finally meet you."

"Likewise."

Sidney levers himself up from his chair and stretches. "It's been a long day."

It's automatic for Daniel to stand too, but Sidney shakes his head and waves a hand. "Not at all necessary," he says with an easy smile. "Enjoy the rest of your Scotch, I'll see myself to bed."

Daniel chuckles. "Sleep well."

"I dare say I shall," Sidney says as he crosses the room, then he pauses at the door. " _Gut nacht_ , Daniel."

It takes Daniel a moment to understand and to smile. " _Gut nacht_." Then Sidney's gone, leaving Daniel with the last of his Scotch and a great many things to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to justalittlegreen for much help with Judaism and Yiddish. Any errors that remain are obviously my own!


	6. Chapter 6

> Sometimes, Sigmund, no matter how good a judge of character you are, someone takes you completely by surprise. Bravery or cowardice, good or bad, occasionally they do something you never expected.
> 
> I didn't realise Daniel Pierce was queer, which isn't something I usually miss. That wasn't the big surprise, though. (He is Hawkeye's father after all. I always assumed he was a special kind of person.) The real surprise was that he told me so.
> 
> Hawkeye trusts me, and though I don't take it for granted, it's a product of shared experience and time taken to learn a person is trustworthy, through thick and thin, if you'll allow me the cliché. His trust was bought over months and years of comradeship in a war zone.
> 
> Daniel Pierce has no reason to trust me save his read of my character and whatever Hawkeye has told him. That's a lot more than nothing, but it's still not a great deal when a man makes himself so vulnerable, however careful and circumspect he is about it. Daniel has a great deal to lose, especially in a small town like this where not being straight would be seen as a moral failing of the worst kind. And yet, within twelve hours of meeting me, he doled out this secret for the sake of his son.
> 
> Perhaps surprise is the wrong word, now I think about it. When I look at the picture of my own son, when I place it in a pocket close to my heart, when I arrive home and he looks at me as if I'm the most wonderful father in the entire world, I know I would do anything for him. That kind of love isn't logical, it isn't a reasoned response or decision. It's bone deep instinct and raw devotion, so deep and primal, it cannot be quantified or explained. It shows us our animal nature, and at the same time, it is beautifully and simply human.
> 
> We are a maze of contradictions.
> 
> Not surprised, then. Maybe simply impressed, moved, a little verklempt. Glad Hawkeye's father loves him so very much. Humbled by the trust Daniel Pierce showed me with that confession. It makes me miss my own father, and makes me determined to shield and protect Daniel's son and my son alike to the absolute limits of my ability.

* * *

The dream is one of the unusual ones, a welcome one Hawk wishes would never end. Most of the time he's grateful to wake up. Many of his dreams are set in places he'd pay money to forget.

This is different, a dream he'd give anything to stay in, or to make reality. Simultaneously vivid and indistinct, snatches of lovemaking and laughter, of sensation and warmth. What he remembers most is being held, and BJ whispering adoration and devotion in his ear.

Reality is cold and dark, and he cries.

What he doesn't expect is a voice in the darkness and a hand taking hold of his.

"Hawkeye?"

It's Sidney.

Daniel sits up with him sometimes, but he sleeps deeply. If Hawk wakes screaming from a nightmare, he'll come running, but Hawk didn't expect company for quiet tears.

"Hawkeye," Sidney says again, stroking his thumb over the back of Hawk's hand. "It's okay. It's all right."

Hawk turns his face into the pillow and wipes at his cheeks. It's a fool's errand. He can't stop crying and besides, Sidney can't see him.

"It's all right. You're not alone."

It takes Hawk several deep breaths before he can actually speak. "Wasn't a nightmare," he whispers. "Didn't want to wake up."

"Oh." It's soft, but somehow Hawk thinks Sidney truly understands. "I'm sorry."

"If I could just stay asleep..."

Sidney keeps up the gentle motion with his thumb. "Life doesn't work like that."

_Well then maybe life isn't for me_. Hawk doesn't say it aloud. It's too harsh and too bitter to voice.

"Reality might be more difficult, but the rewards are far greater," Sidney continues.

"They aren't, though." It spills out without Hawk meaning it to, but it's true. "They really aren't."

There's a pause, as if Sidney is trying to make sense of that assertion. "Hawkeye," he says at last, "what did you dream about?"

Hawk doesn't want to answer, but again, his mouth gets away from him. "Beej."

Sidney goes completely still for a second. "Ah."

"So you see, real life... doesn't come close."

Sidney squeezes Hawk's hand again, but doesn't speak. What can he say? What can anyone say? Hawk is fucked up and screwed over and has nothing to look forward to, and that's the truth of it, and no one will admit it aloud, not even Hawkeye himself, because there's no hope. Even in the middle of the night with his eyes half-closed from the exhaustion that is his constant companion, Hawk can't make the words come out, can't confess how much he's hurting. Even he has better self-preservation instincts than that.

"What are you doing up, anyway?" Hawk asks, before the silence gets too awkward.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Hawk blinks. "Why?"

"Because you're my friend. It's been kind of an emotional day, and I thought you might have a rough night."

"So you decided to sit at my bedside? Geez, Sid, just buy me a bunch of flowers if you're gonna be a sap."

He probably shouldn't be surprised when he gets a light slap upside the head for that.

"Idiot." Sidney's tone is such a mixture of affection and exasperation, Hawk laughs, and he's grateful for it. It's tough to get a belly laugh out of him these days, but with his guard down in the small hours and Sidney looking after him, well, it's a little easier than usual.

"Seriously though, Sidney. You don't have to sleep in a chair, for God's sake." Hawk doesn't like to admit he kind of wishes Sidney would, despite his protests.

Sidney ruffles his hair. "Who said I had to? You're a doctor, Hawkeye. You're also a friend. You know what it's like to care about someone, to want to help them. I'm both of those things too."

"Oh."

"I know it's something you're having trouble with at the moment, but your father isn't sharing his home with you out of duty. BJ doesn't write you because he thinks he owes you." Hawk hears Sidney shift forward in his chair. When he speaks again, he's much closer, as if he's determined Hawk will hear this. "And I didn't come here out of professional obligation."

"Oh."

"I think you'd know all that, if you were honest with yourself. Just because you can't believe right now that you're worth the effort, don't expect the people around you to agree with your delusion." There's a note of humour in Sidney's voice that betrays the kindness underneath the admonition.

"Oh," Hawk says yet again, then, very quietly, "Sidney? Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sidney says, softer now. He rests a hand on Hawk's head like a father reassuring a child. It's incredibly comforting for such a simple gesture. "You think you can get a little more sleep?"

Hawk takes a deep breath. "I think, maybe?"

"Good."

"Sidney?"

"Mmhm?"

"Can you... stay? Could you-?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

That alone is enough to make Hawk relax. Then Sidney takes his hand again, and Hawk wants to cry with relief that Sidney understood what Hawk couldn't bring himself to voice aloud.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

Sidney's warm laughter follows him back to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to the denizens of [The Swamp](https://discord.gg/H5nHFr4) for being super patient and also incredibly encouraging while I've been polishing up this chapter. You all rock 😽

It's a cold, crisp morning, and so bright it's worth braving the chill of the sunroom to see the sky. Maybe Hawk will never stop expecting the peace and quiet to be shattered by chopper blades and 'Incoming wounded!', but it makes him feel a tiny bit better to sit here and soak in the scenery. He missed Maine so sharply in Korea, and was never sure he would return in one piece.

(Of course, there are times he wishes he hadn't returned at all, but if he has to battle with despair, at least he gets to do it someplace beautiful.)

He crept down early, but Daniel and Sidney won't be far behind. He probably should've woken Sidney, who no doubt will have an awful crick in his neck after spending the night in a chair.

Hawk needed a moment, though, after waking up from a few hours of blissfully dream-free sleep to discover Sid still in his room, hand still clasped around his, looking so much younger in repose. Hawk felt - he feels - lighter than he has in some time. Sidney always did have that effect on him.

He lay there for a long while, watching Sidney doze, and wondering how the hell he ended up with friends like this. Wondering how he could ever say thank you. Marvelling at the depth of Sidney's compassion.

He's grateful and embarrassed and a thousand other emotions all knotted up in his chest. He won't be able to unravel them alone, he needs Sidney's careful, patient hands, but he also needs to let his mind go blank, to just _be_ for a while before he subjects himself to more open-heart surgery.

It's not just Sidney, although it's no picnic to be taken to pieces. At least he knows Sid will put him back together again, maybe a little raw around the edges but definitely better than before. That's scary, but it makes some kind of sense.

Nothing else really seems to at the moment. The latest letter from Peg is still reducing him to tears every time he lets himself think about it, he's absolutely aching to hear BJ's voice again... he wants to tell them he's going to visit, wants to promise he's figuring out options, wants to start talking about dates and itineraries, but the thought of committing himself to it scares him to his marrow. It's too much, and he's a coward.

He's so wound up in his thoughts, he doesn't even realise Sidney's appeared till there's a hand on his shoulder and he nearly jumps right out of his chair. He gives Sidney a reproachful look he suspects isn't very convincing.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Sidney says. "I'm sorry." He sounds contrite, though there's a sparkle in his eye Hawk doesn't completely trust.

"You should know not to creep up on a veteran." Hawk can't even manage to sound properly annoyed.

Sidney squeezes his shoulder. "Well, you didn't leap up and punch me in the mouth, so I'll call it a win." Another squeeze, then Sidney's dropping into the chair next to Hawk's, and it's really hard to stay mad at him when he's here, when Hawk loves him so much for coming. "How're you feeling? You seemed pretty peaceful once you'd gotten back to sleep."

Hawk gives him a wry grin. "Well, no more dreams, good or bad, so I guess that's a win, too." He looks down at his knees. "Thank you for... thanks."

"You're welcome. What are friends for?"

It takes every ounce self-control Hawk has not to pull Sidney out of the chair and into his lap. He glances up, but Sidney's expression is so warm, so full of concern, he has to look away again. The ache for closeness, for tenderness, is strong, and he doesn't know how to explain how much it means that Sidney's here. If he could express himself more... _physically_... Sidney isn't BJ, but he's probably the next best thing, and lines get blurred in a war zone.

It's not the same now they're all back in the States, though. Sidney might hold his hand in the dark, BJ might willingly share a bed, but Hawk doesn't have the right to expect more, to push, not even with Sidney, not even at the lines they already crossed. It's just that the urge to grab Sidney and drag him off somewhere in search of privacy is so damn hard to resist.

Whether Sidney realises what Hawk's thinking or not, he obviously sees the struggle. He touches Hawk's forearm, rubs his thumb against Hawk's wrist, and it helps a little. Hawk's heart rate settles and he relaxes, breathing easier and closing his eyes. It's comforting but it also hurts. He wills himself not to cry as the confusing knot of emotion twists even harder. They sit like that for some time, and Hawk doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Daniel comes out to say he's made them all breakfast.

Hawk's mostly a spectator to the conversation around the kitchen table. It's intriguing to watch Sidney and his father talk; he almost feels like a kid sitting with adults, which is something that should probably concern him, but actually is strangely pleasant.

"I see you've gotten to know Dad a bit," Hawk says, when Daniel heads to his study. He claims he has paperwork to catch up on, but it's obvious he's deliberately giving them time and space to talk, and Hawk's grateful. (Mostly.)

"We had a good long chat last night."

"Oh," Hawk says, rather alarmed. He's not sure if it's more 'post parent-teacher conference' or 'debriefing a spy'; he's intrigued by and scared of whatever Sidney might have found out. "Oh yes?"

"He's an interesting fellow."

Hawk can't make sense of Sidney's tone or expression. In lieu of a better option and desperately needing a little more time without having to face the music, he gathers their plates and goes to start washing the dishes. He's stalling again, and kinda hates himself for it.

He half expects Sidney to leave him to it, or at least to tell him off for his cowardice, but then Sidney appears with a dish towel and quietly begins to dry up.

It's comforting to have Sidney at his shoulder. It shouldn't be, or it seems like it shouldn't be, because it's yet another moment reminiscent of Korea, working side by side in hell, but here they have the camaraderie without the blood and bombs. Hawk relaxes again, and by the time they're done, he's almost equal to this.

He leads Sidney through to the den. It's stupid, all things considered, but he avoids his usual corner and sits on the couch instead. He isn't quite ready for Sidney to see the towering pile of letters to and from BJ.

"Now this is cosy," Sidney says with a smile as he looks around the room and settles into an armchair opposite Hawk.

Hawk laughs. "It is pretty good." They look at each other for a minute, and Hawk figures he's avoided this as long as he possibly can. "So... you talked to Dad," he starts.

Sidney nods. "He shared some of his Scotch with me."

"He must have decided you're okay."

That gets one of those grins that makes Sidney look even younger than being asleep does. "I suppose so. He worries about you."

"I know. I'm doing my best, Sid. I think I make him feel a little helpless."

"It's not in any doctor's nature to deal well with seeing someone in pain and being unable to ease the suffering. And he's your father, which only makes it more difficult."

Hawk has to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath. He's causing Daniel so much heartache still, and it hurts to know that.

"How much have you told him about Korea?"

"I've told him... all I'm going to tell him. All I can. Some things I just can't..." Hawk's still debating if he should ask Sidney to explain about- about the incident. Whether it's even fair to lay that burden on Daniel's shoulders.

"I see." Sidney nods, studying Hawk's face, and evidently decides it's not the time to push. (Hawk's grateful.) "What about the good things?"

"Well those didn't take too long to tell!" Hawk snaps, then shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I'm just..." He gestures vaguely.

Sidney leans forward to grasp his knee for a moment. "It's all right, Hawkeye. It's okay."

Hawk manages a smile, weak as it is. "Thanks, Sidney. I am grateful. Not just for you coming up here, either. For... for everything. I hope you know that."

Sidney smiles back, a gentle, kind smile. "I know."

How the hell Hawk ended up with these friends, he may never understand. "I told him about the people. I don't know how to talk about the bad stuff anyway. There was so much of it, and I probably wrote him too much in my letters already. So I tell him stories about the people and the ridiculous things, and- it's just... easier."

"That makes sense. There are some things I haven't told Molly. It's hard to be sure sometimes what's important for people to know and what should be left alone. None of us wants to burden our loved ones unnecessarily."

"Yes, exactly." Why is it such a surprise Sidney understands? He always did.

Sidney leans on the arm of his chair and rests his chin on his hand, studying Hawk for a moment before he speaks again. "I gather you told him how you feel about BJ?"

"How did you guess? No, don't tell me. It'll probably just embarrass me." Hawk chuckles. "Strictly speaking, he knows, but I didn't have to tell him. He told _me_ , straight out, 'you're in love with BJ', like it was that obvious."

Sidney raises his eyebrows.

"Well okay, I'm not all that subtle. But I didn't even tell him I was queer! Talk about stealing my moment," he says, with mock annoyance.

Sidney outright laughs. "He knows you well. And loves you a great deal."

"I know. Sometimes I don't even know how he does it. I was not the easiest teenager." He grimaces sheepishly. "And I... I haven't been easy to live with since I got back home, either."

Sidney makes a face like he's only just resisting the urge to comment.

"Okay, enough of that."

"Enough of what? I didn't say a word."

Hawk rolls his eyes. "Never trust a shrink."

"I'm no ordinary shrink."

"Hallelujah. I'd be screwed if you were."

"Your dad isn't ordinary either, is he?"

"He's not. He's the best man I know."

Sidney nods, looking pensive, like he has something on his mind and isn't sure if he should share it.

"What's eating you, Sid?"

A deep breath. "Well... your father, he- he told me a little about the... relationship he had in college."

Hawk searches Sidney's face. There's only one thing he can imagine Sidney means, but the idea Daniel took such a risk is startling.

"He told me about his BJ," Sidney continues.

"Fuck."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, it's just-" Hawk shakes his head. Shit. He never expected... "Sometimes I think about how brave my dad is, and it astounds me," he says. "I didn't expect him to tell you something so... dangerous. I mean, he knows I trust you, but- I never thought..."

"He wants to help. He wanted to let me know he knows, and that he understands."

Hawk shakes his head. He can't believe it, and at the same time it makes complete sense. Daniel keeps catching him unawares with his courage, with how much he's willing to risk for Hawkeye's sake. Sometimes Hawk wonders if he knew his father at all before Korea. It's as if there's a whole part of Daniel he didn't even realise existed, so brave and sad. It's amazing and unnerving.

"He only told _me_ after BJ visited, you know." It's strange admitting his ignorance aloud. "I didn't have a clue. He keeps surprising me. I thought I knew him so well."

"What else did he surprise you about?"

"Oh, it's a good one. Turns out Dad was a lot more canny when I was a kid than I imagined," he says. "Not only did he know I wasn't straight, he figured out some of my 'best friends' weren't just friends. And he never got in the way."

Sidney chuckles. "I had a few friends like that myself."

"Did your dad know?"

Sidney shrugs a shoulder. "If he did, he never asked about it, and I never told him. Then I met Molly, and-" he spreads his hands "-that was that."

Hawk chuckles. "I was so proud of myself as a teenager, that I'd gotten away with this huge thing, this huge secret, and it turns out Dad knew all along."

"Good parents do that. Know you better than you realise and love you anyway."

"I don't think I would've made it this far if it weren't for Dad." The admission spills out by accident. It's one thing to joke, but Hawk never intended to confess his desperation aloud to anyone. He just can't seem to help himself. He's torn that he admitted it to Sidney, not as gallows humour, but as a truth wrenched from his heart in a moment of weakness. On one hand, Sidney is one of the people he trusts most in the world, and Hawk's sure it won't surprise him; on the other, Sidney's semi-officially his shrink. It's terribly exposing to confess such surprise over his own survival.

"I'm glad you have him, Hawkeye. He seems like a very decent, good man."

It lifts Hawk's spirits to hear his dad praised, especially by someone whose opinion he values so much. "He is."

Sidney studies him again. "So he's known for a long time that you're attracted to men as well as women?"

"Yup," Hawk says, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "Bit of an anticlimax, to be honest."

"This is one situation in which an anticlimax is good."

"Fair point."

"You knew back when you were a kid, then."

"Yeah... I think I figured it out mostly when I realised the other kids didn't- well, the girls wanted to kiss boys, and most of the boys just wanted to kiss girls."

"Most of them?"

"Well, Tommy was-" Hawk stops. _Damn_. He dumped himself in it this time.

"Tommy?"

He takes a deep breath. "Tommy Gillis."

The sudden understanding on Sidney's face says he heard at least some of the story from another source. "You never told me about him," he says softly.

Hawk winces. He still doesn't like talking about it. It still feels like losing Tommy again every damn time.

"He was... a friend. From a very long time ago."

Sidney doesn't respond, just keeps watching him, leaving a silence that's aching to be filled.

Hawk can't hold his gaze. "He was more than a friend. He was one of my oldest friends. He knew me so well, for so long. He was the first boy I kissed, he was the first _person_ I kissed, he was... a lot of firsts. When he died-" Hawk has to stop and take a deep breath. Saying those words aloud _hurts_. "When he died, it was like part of me died, too. He was part of my personality, part of the- the furniture of my life. I wasn't in love with him or anything, but I loved him. And he loved me. He was always there, he always had been, and I thought he always would be, and then he _wasn't_ , and I- I don't think I've ever been quite the same. He died on my operating table, did you know that? Korea broke me, Sid, but when Tommy died right in front of me and I was powerless to save him... that was the first time I really knew that it would. That was when I knew I wasn't gonna get out of there alive."

When Hawk looks up, he's startled by how shiny Sidney's warm brown eyes are, as if he's almost overcome with emotion. Hawk can't get used to how much Sid (and Daniel, and Beej) care, how much they hurt for him.

"And yet, here you are."

"Some of me, sure."

Sidney gently pats Hawk's knee, and murmurs, "I'm so, so sorry, Hawkeye."

The simple, sincere sympathy is more than Hawk can stand. He drops his face into his hands and weeps.

Sidney moves to sit beside him, rubbing his back and making soothing noises. Tears drip down Hawk's fingers and pool in his palms, and he sobs until his throat feels like someone took a cheese grater to it. "It's not fair," he whispers. "It's not fair, Sidney, I don't- I don't think I can keep going. I don't have it in me."

He's not sure what response he expects, but for a long while, all Sidney does is sit beside him, one hand on his arm, the other moving gently up and down his spine.

Eventually Sidney says, "None of us came home from the war, not really. No one does. Part of us will always be there, up to our knees in blood and brokenness. It's not something you get past. It's something you learn to live with. The patients we didn't save, the lives we saw snuffed out. The misery we couldn't ease. We may always be haunted." He ruffles Hawk's hair. "And Korea was especially cruel to you, Hawkeye. You were there for so long, and saw so much. There's no shame in being a little broken because of it. Anyone would be." There's another pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is so soft, Hawk hardly dares breathe in case he misses something. "I wish I could tell you it'll get easier, that one day it won't hurt, but I think what happens is that we learn to feel things besides the pain. We learn the parts of ourselves we think we left behind are still with us as well as in Korea, and we learn to put them back together. Not the same way they were before, we'll never quite be the people we used to be. Often we'll be uncomfortable or sad or distressed. But we can still live lives worth living. We can still love and be loved. We can still be needed. We can still give the world something worth having."

Hawk takes a shuddering breath and leans on Sidney, rests his head on Sidney's shoulder. Sidney wraps his arm around Hawk and presses a kiss to Hawk's hair like Hawk did to him yesterday, and for the moment, at least, Hawk feels like maybe he can survive this after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Daniel sits in his study going through paperwork, but his mind is on his son and their guest. He's doing his best to offer as much quiet and privacy as possible; if Sidney is to help Ben, then surely that is what they both need.

He can't tear his thoughts away, though, even if he's able to give them physical space. He thought he'd understand more, meeting Ben's friends, seeing them together, but he doesn't. When he saw Sidney and Ben this morning, sitting quietly, side by side, Sidney holding Ben's wrist so carefully, touching Ben the way one touches something infinitely fragile and precious...

It made him think of Isaac again, and it both warms his heart and confuses him completely.

In different circumstances, he might wonder if Sidney were in love with his son, or if Ben were in love with Sidney. But he saw Ben with BJ, and the way Sidney talks about his wife makes it obvious his marriage is no sham. Maybe it's just another of those Korea things, something that makes no sense to an onlooker. Maybe one had to be there to understand. Daniel would like to ask, but he has no idea how to start the conversation. Best to leave it to people who don't need an explanation.

Amongst his paperwork, he also does some careful math: time zones and distances and the calculus of affordability in opposition to Ben's frame of mind.

Daniel's never been miserly, but he's always been frugal. Now, if he's clever, he can be prodigal and expansive, can send Ben to San Francisco speedily and in comfort. He won't tell Ben until the ticket is safely in his hands; Ben would be horrified Daniel intended to spend so much money on him, but once the ticket is purchased, he won't be able let it go to waste.

It's still a daunting task. Sending Ben to California as soon as possible also means sending him alone, and Daniel feels positively queasy about the idea. It's such a long journey, even by air, and so much could go wrong. If Daniel could put his affairs in order more quickly, or if Ben weren't on the very edge of breaking to pieces, they could drive across the country together, but scared as Daniel is to send Ben on his own, he's more afraid of keeping Ben here, watching him slowly disintegrate; he's terrified of a day when an empty bottle of pills won't mean Ben flushed them away.

It's the only thing to do, no matter how frightening. Short of keeping Sidney here for the duration, Daniel has no better way of safeguarding Ben's sanity than sending him to the person whose presence seemed to calm and comfort him the most.

* * *

Hawk's grateful to his father for giving them privacy, but he might be even more grateful after lunch when Daniel joins them in the den. Sidney's good at what he does, sometimes too good; Hawk feels as if he's been lovingly but thoroughly flayed, and it's all too tender and too much to bear.

It's comforting to sit quietly as Daniel and Sidney talk shop, swapping the kind of anecdotes that come hand in hand with a lifetime in medicine. Hawk watches and listens more for the laughter and fellowship than the stories themselves. He has that feeling again of being the kid at the adult table, and maybe it's a reaction to almost three years with much too much responsibility, but it's genuinely comforting to be a spectator and let their voices wash over him without a need to contribute.

One day they'll have another reunion, one they don't just organise but get to attend. The idea is both heartwarming and terrifying; to see so many people he loves in one place, to see his colleagues, friends, _family_ from the 4077th without bombs falling around them. It sounds like heaven and is also an overwhelming thought. If BJ's there to hold on to, maybe he'll survive it.

Or Sidney, of course, although BJ is a lot easier to hide behind. Hawk still can't quite believe Sidney came, even when the evidence is sitting large (or small) as life right opposite him, gesturing expansively as he tells Daniel another tall story.

Part of him even feels like he imagined BJ's visit. How is it possible BJ would take the time and energy to trek across the whole country just to check Hawk was okay? It's too much. If Hawk weren't already irretrievably and hopelessly in love with BJ, that would've done it.

And now Sidney, who's expended so much effort trying to get Hawk's head screwed back on right, who did so much more than his fair share already, came all the way to this distant corner of Maine for Hawk's sake. Incredible.

There's no point in Hawk asking himself what he did to deserve this, because there's no way he does deserve it, but God, he's so grateful.

He finds himself watching Sidney almost like he watched Beej when he visited. Hungry for the familiar cadence of Sidney's voice, his laughter, that mischievous smile...

Maybe he's a little smitten with Sidney, too. It's not the same as how he feels about Beej (he loves Sid, he's _in love_ with BJ), but it isn't completely different, either. Not quite so foolish, perhaps, if not terribly clever. Enough alike that he still feels that gnawing desire to pull Sidney close and kiss him stupid and touch him all over.

He always did give his heart away too easily. He can hardly deal with feeling the way he does about Beej, and he hasn't ever completely gotten over his relationship with Trap and how the hurt of not getting to say goodbye lingers. It's never been like that with Sidney, though he isn't sure why not.

Maybe it's that warm pragmatism Sidney's so good at; he had enough insight to see the danger and was too smart to allow Hawk to romanticise what they shared. However it worked, Hawk's grateful; he doesn't need yet another married man to shatter him.

It's still much too easy to love Sidney Freedman. There must be plenty of others out there in the same position, who owe their sanity or their very lives to this man. How many of them lost a piece of their heart to his warmth and compassion? Dozens, if not hundreds, surely.

When Hawk looks away, it's to find Daniel watching him, face curious, and Hawk's cheeks heat. _Yes, Dad_ , he wants to say, _I kinda love him, too. I have a problem_.

At least he knows now that Daniel understands.

* * *

> Hawkeye makes a good deal more sense to me now I've met Daniel Pierce. Hawkeye's both fortunate and unfortunate. A father so devoted and understanding is not something many are lucky enough to get; one who not only understands but shares his son's queerness seems almost a luxury.
> 
> And yet, he is from a generation for whom these things are all but taboo, and the loss of Hawkeye's mother at such a young age hurt them very deeply. I wonder how different things might have been had Adelaide and her influence been part of their lives for longer.
> 
> (I wish I could mend that broken part of Hawkeye's heart, but it's not the right moment and I'm not at all sure I'm even the right person to try.)
> 
> I hope I can encourage them to communicate - I can only imagine how endlessly frustrating it must be for them, simultaneously so close and so closed off. I wonder if I could convince them to write each other; it will probably seem crazy, but I know how much letters sustained Hawkeye in Korea. It isn't like talking with someone face to face, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing. They have so much in common. I should like to see them help one another a little more, as I'm sure they'd both like to do.
> 
> Hawkeye's never been good at keeping his emotions to himself, but also doesn't know how to share them with his father or to express himself in a healthy way anymore. He has too much anger and no one to rail against except the demons in his own head, and there's no miracle cure for those.
> 
> All I can offer Hawkeye is the truth: none of us will ever be the same ever again. We were fundamentally and irrevocably changed by everything we went through together, but it doesn't mean we will never be happy.
> 
> However true it is, it isn't especially comforting to someone who's battling despair, who doesn't feel he's winning this war any more than there were winners in Korea. Recovery from trauma is arduous, and 'it will get better' rings hollow for one who's in so much pain. It isn't terribly easy to watch, either. Intellectually, I'm well aware Hawkeye is a grown man, a qualified doctor, a war vet. But all too often when I look at him, I see a scared teenager masquerading as an adult, all bluff and bluster to hide the terrible fear.
> 
> I'll be honest, Sigmund, it rather breaks my heart.
> 
> I fear his anger, which was turned sideways in Korea, is now turning inward, and it could easily tear him apart. I would do almost anything in my power to stop that from happening.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shoutout to onekisstotakewithme for the Hawk is a scared teenager comment which she graciously allowed me to put in Sidney's mouth 😸😽😻


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